Sex Talk: Part 1

Throughout ambiguous times such as these, we have all had plenty of headspace to reflect and deepen our understandings of ourselves. Though it is important not to dwell on the past, of course it is inevitable that, with more time to spare, we have no choice but to confront any difficult feelings/emotions/situations that may have been repressed to the deepest parts of our subconscious and forgotten about due to our usual fast-paced nature of everyday life. We have been forced to slow down and reflect. This can be a blessing in disguise - should you choose to view it this way.  Naturally, I too have fallen victim to slipping into intensified states of anxiety, melancholy, and longing that have surfaced as a direct result of this isolation. But without forgiveness, directed towards us and others, we will always be stuck. It is imperative that we recognise negative sensations and try to locate the source. Let us be aware of our feelings but proceed with caution to ensure they do not consume us.  

 

Aside from working through any negativity that we may be facing, there is endless discourse surrounding the areas of life that lockdown continues to affect. We are constantly reminded of how to protect our physical health – brought to us with the undertones that we are school children and unaware of how to carry out basic hand washing – as well as the nation’s financial struggles, and constitutional catastrophes. Of course, we all need to stay informed yet, important though these things are, the news now often tends to send my thoughts to jumble themselves more than their usual amount. One area that doesn't seem to be getting much of the spotlight is the sexual implications, and revelations, that lockdown has brought upon our sex lives. For me, and I'm sure other fellow singletons (I stand in solidarity with you, your faithful hand, and your sex toys!) sex and intimacy seem like a distant memory. Did we make this up?? What is a ~sex~? After realising the extent of just much I am missing regular sexual encounters, I thought I would take this opportunity to pen some insights into my own relationship to sex, intimacy issues, and, in typical Liz fashion, a couple of anxieties and concerns with all things sex-y.

 

So, for Sex Talk: Part One, I shall let you into my own thoughts I have with sex and relationships. Following lengthy consideration and plentiful missteps regarding my intimate life, I have concluded that my personal relationship to sex/affection is quite the odd one. At the risk of sounding somewhat Freudian, I wonder whether, alongside a lack of sex education, the absence of emotional connection throughout my childhood formed the roots for my intimate behaviour in adulthood.  Meggers & LoPiccolo in Encyclopaedia of Psychotherapy (2002) relay that if parents have discouraged communication surrounding sexual issues and education then ‘many children grow into adults who are ignorant of their partner's and their own anatomy.’ From personal experience, I can say this is entirely true. Growing up, I do not recall receiving any information regarding sex or my sexual health/anatomy and any qualms that I did have, I kept secret. For example, when I got my first period, I didn’t tell my mum for a very long time. I also did not receive guidance on how to…groom…myself (shaving, correct washing techniques etc) and often bought razors and sanitary products secretly. Luckily, I had Google and the help of friends on how to look after my downstairs area, and I obviously knew what periods were thanks to the (very limited) sex education we received in school. But I ponder now: would I had been embarrassed to tell her had we had a prior discussion on such menstrual events, or if we had established a bond of trust and emotional depth between us, rather than rivalry and hostility? I do not mean to sound as though my parents were not loving parents; they were, and are, but I cannot help but envy those that have achieved and can maintain a healthy functional relationship with their parents, especially if siblings are present too. However, with this being said, perhaps I should rather shift the blame onto society for implementing such rigid gender roles and attitudes towards sex that, evidently, is simultaneously subconsciously and consciously passed down through generations.  Simone de Beauvoir, in The Second Sex (1949), a major work of feminist philosophy that deconstructs womanhood and femininity, writes that the young man’s ‘erotic drives only go to confirm the pride that he obtains from his body’ whereas ‘the girl can succeed in accepting her desires: but most often they retain a shameful nature’. De Beauvoir confirms my own internal awkwardness mentioned above: ‘her whole body is experienced as embarrassment’. In addition to this, my memory does not serve that I had ‘The Talk’ with either one of my parents, despite having a high school boyfriend and having a coil fitted (to which again, I did not inform my mother, she simply found a leaflet in my room and we did not discuss it any further) yet my brother definitely did have this conversation. Here, we have an explicit instance of an issue so prevalent in society – that sex is for boys.  

Though the incident of menstrual secrecy may seem minor, it reflects that I have internalised shame regarding myself as a physical, and sexual, being. On top of the lack of sexual education, emotional disconnections, and confusing hormonal changes throughout puberty, to which I received little guidance on how to cope with, I developed an eating disorder. Although as a society we are definitely becoming more inclusive of all body types and personal grooming choices, I remain somewhat fixated on the unrealistic standard that women have been expected to uphold consistently for the sake of the male gaze: shaven hairless body, thin, passive, submissive, sexy but not ‘slutty’, don’t be too quiet but don’t be loud, don’t be boring but don’t be wild, be clever but not too intelligent. De Beauvoir excellently confirms these puzzling notions that girls are subject to by stating that ‘to be feminine is to show oneself as weak, futile, passive, and docile…any self-assertion will take away from her femininity and her seductiveness’ and that ‘men do not like tomboys, nor bluestockings, nor thinking women; too much audacity, culture, intelligence, or character frightens them’. I am already prone enough to bouts of extreme hyperawareness vis-à-vis my social identity, body image, and overall physical appearance without the added misogynistic pressure of femininity for male pleasure being thrown into the mix as well. Though I have slowly but surely grown in confidence in my body, I still panic about how my body looks during sex irrespective of whether they are a long-term or a new partner. Regardless of their efforts to make me feel comfortable – a couple of my past sexual partners have made no attempts to do this which only proves a lack of understanding toward the female form/psyche and female pleasure,  but this will be covered in a subsequent part of this series – my mind cannot help but be distracted by my external appearance. 

It can be said that some of my previous sexual experiences have been dissatisfactory to me as the preoccupation with my body image obstructs my ability to stay ‘in the moment’ and present. Michael Wiederman in The Journal of Sex Research (2000) approves this in noting that '...women have incorporated the unrealistic cultural standards for female beauty and sex appeal to a greater degree, and the increased body image self-consciousness during physical intimacy is a result of such internalisation.' I am, due to my lack of confidence and respect for my wonderful body, sometimes repulsed by the touch of my sexual partners as my mind wanders to the thought of them grabbing any fat or muscle or skin, or if I fall into some bad lighting and they see any (normal!!!) cellulite. Or I’m plagued with thoughts of if I’ve shaved ‘good enough’ or if my legs/bum/arms/anything have the slightest wobble then they will get up and get dressed and run off and tell all of their family and friends and neighbours and dogs just how disgusting Liz is. Of course, this does not happen. Quite the opposite. I know my body has been adored by my previous sexual partners but to overcome this mental obstacle myself is difficult. Because of such extreme abnormal consciousness of how my body is perceived, I occasionally found it difficult to enjoy sex properly, yet I often ensured that my partner(s) were unknowing to my anxieties for fear of ‘ruining the mood’. I now realise that this is absurd as my pleasure and comfortability should be as valued as theirs. I have also now come to comprehend that if you cannot voice such anxieties or worries to your sexual partner, during the act of intercourse or otherwise, or if they make you feel uncomfortable, then you probably shouldn’t be having sex with that person anyway.  

Even though I struggle intensely with self-consciousness during physical intimacy, - and this may be somewhat confusing - this lack of confidence and love towards myself resulted in an extreme need for validation from the opposite sex. Because of this, I have had a fair number of sexual partners in which I have been judged for. I also judge myself for this as I have internalised the misogynistic views that women should not like sex or have ‘high body counts’ (whatever that means). No person should not be judged on this. It literally does not matter. Admittedly, I have unfortunately neglected the monogamous status of my past relationships and ignored the needs of past partners in search of this fleeting desire to feel ‘wanted’ and ‘attractive’ to everyone else. This need for external validation paired with my low self-esteem has also resulted in a number of flings. Flings, as the name suggests, are quick, easy, and thoughtless, and usually end in the silent mutual agreement to not see each other again or as the kids these days call it – ghosting. I have been both on the receiving and giving end of ‘ghosting’ after a fling, but I feel as though I take it a lot more personally than others may even if I have no desire to progress further with the partner. When this happened, my ego took a bit of a beating. I began to think that something was wrong with me personally and my mind went into overdrive thinking about anything I had done or said to make them ‘go off me’, when in actuality, the fling probably just ran its natural course. I’m aware that you can’t be everyone’s cup of tea and maybe they just weren’t that into me but, parallel to these feelings of inadequacy, I must admit I began to experience confusion surrounding why these flings didn’t fall in love with me?? I guess you could say I have a simultaneous inferiority/God complex. 

I also consider that the intensity, and toxicity, of my past relationships has clouded my judgment regarding new partners, as normal and healthy levels of communication/expressions of emotions can be perceived to my brain as ‘boring’ because I am not used to them. Constant communication, love-bombing, and possessiveness is not healthy. Because of disappointing past relationships, I have unconsciously avoided healthy partners to keep myself guarded and often found ways to prevent constructing a healthy relationship for fear of it 'blowing up anyway'.  I often sabotage potential healthy new relationships because of my fear of intimacy and that I have been made to feel in the past that I am difficult to love. I know that past relationships can negatively influence how we engage with new partners but try to remember that, although you can't change what has happened to you, you can change your attitudes towards it. We are always deserving of love. It is possible to experience healthy love and devotion without possession and obsession. Love will find us when we least expect it.  

We need to experience learning curves and sexual experiences in order to grow as individuals. It's scary enough being open and vulnerable with someone. Having sex is one of the rawest form of vulnerability but it's a beautiful thing. Sex is cool! Intimacy is cool! 

I shall see you soon for Part Two. 

Let yourself love and be loved. 

 

Beauvoir, S. d. (1949).  The Second Sex. Translated from French by Constance Borde and Shelia Malovany-Chevallier 2009. London: Vintage Books. 

 

Lefkowitz, E. S., Shearer, C. L., Gillen, M. M., & Espinosa-Hernandez, G. (2014). How Gendered Attitudes Relate to Women's and Men's Sexual Behaviors and Beliefs. Sexuality & Culture. 833–846 

 

Meggers, H, J. & LoPiccolo, J. (2002) Sex Therapy.  Encyclopaedia of Psychotherapy. Editor(s): Michel Hersen, William Sledge. Academic Press. 635-650. 

 

Wiederman, M. (2000). Women's Body Image Self-Consciousness During Physical Intimacy with a Partner. The Journal of Sex Research. 37(1), 60-68. 

- e.a.w